


yours, mine

by adamantine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Academy Dimilix, Alpha Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Azure Moon Route, Breeding Kink, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Possessive Behavior, Post Gronder Dimilix, Pre Gronder Dimilix, Scenting with Benefits, intersex omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamantine/pseuds/adamantine
Summary: During their days at the Officers Academy, Dimitri helps Felix through his heats, never asking for anything in return.Years later when Dimitri goes into a rut, Felix takes it upon himself to return the favor.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 8
Kudos: 108
Collections: 2020 Dimilix Exchange





	yours, mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puppysicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppysicle/gifts).



> MERRY DIMILIXMAS YSAB!!!!!!!!! While this is primarily ABO fic, I added a sprinkling of some of your other prompts (FWB/possessiveness) and basically just went Ham. ✌️

Bandit after bandit fall to the cold iron of Felix’s sword. He feels nothing but contempt as he cuts them through, disgusted by their actions. These villagers are struggling to get by as it is. He won’t let a single one of them die; he’ll save them all. Not because his father has asked it of him, but because they’re his people, and what is the point of him if he can’t protect them?

An arrow flies at him. He dodges it and looks for the culprit. A shadow of black and blue runs past him and throws a javelin at an archer. The archer falls; the boar snarls and pulls the javelin out of his chest.

Felix has no doubt that was the archer who targeted him. His kill was stolen from him.

The boar doesn’t stay still for long. He runs across the battlefield, his bright blue cape flying behind him, and skewers bandits on his javelin. His monstrous strength allows him to pierce through the thickest of armors but these bandits are a sorry bunch; he drives his javelin into them like they’re nothing more than training dummies stuffed full of straw.

Something about the situation is bringing out the boar’s bloodlust more than usual. Perhaps it’s because the village is in Faerghus, or maybe it’s because Felix’s old man is there—whatever the reason is doesn’t matter as much as the results of it. Felix feels anger and hatred toward the bandits, but he doesn’t take any pleasure in killing them outside of the thrill of testing his strength. The boar, however, is joyous as he drives his javelin through their soft flesh. The joy is muted, the result of the boar holding onto his princely mask, but Felix can see it; he can always see it—even when no one else does.

A bandit raises their sword toward a villager. Before their strike can hit true, the boar grabs their arm and breaks it, and then kills them with their own sword. A pleasant warmth spreads inside Felix as he watches the bandit die. He thinks nothing of it. Fighting a battle is physically demanding; it’s expected for him to feel hot, to soak the layers of his clothes with sweat. He dispatches an archer with a shock of lightning, and races toward the bandit that seems to be calling the shots.

The boar call his name. Felix ignores him, and ignores the way the warmth building under his skin grows stronger at the sound of his voice.

It doesn’t mean anything.

It doesn’t.

Later, Felix will realize how wrong he was.

⟡⟡⟡

His old man bestows him with the Aegis shield. It should make him happy but as everything relating to his father, it elicits a complicated set of emotions. The village they saved is one King Lambert cared for; it’s the reason his father requested additional help. If he hadn’t, it’s unlikely the villagers would have all survived. Felix seethes with rage at the callousness of it.

A person’s life shouldn’t depend on whether a dead king had a soft spot for their home. He stomps away from his father and the professor _burning_ in anger.

Because there’s no fairness to life, he runs into the boar on the way to his tent—literally. It’s like walking into a statue. The boar stays solidly fixed where he stands; Felix rubs his elbow, having knocked it against his armor (he thinks; it could have been any part of the boar’s dense frame really).

“Felix! My apologies, I didn’t expect anyone else to be turning the corner.”

“Pay better attention to your surroundings, boar. You’ll get yourself killed one day if you don’t.”

“I’ll be more careful as not to worry you.”

That isn't what Felix meant. He isn’t _worried_. If he didn’t feel so tired he would strike the boar down where he stands for misunderstanding him.

“Ah.” The boar’s eyes drift down. “Rodrigue gave you Aegis?”

The question is too stupid to deign a response. Obviously it was given to him; he’s not a thief.

The boar’s nostrils flare; he opens his mouth to better scent the air. “You smell strange.”

Anger flows through Felix in a hot torrent, pooling at his gut. “Did you just _scent me_ , boar?” Scenting another person in public is the height of crassness; doing it without their permission is the equivalent of slapping the ass of a passing barkeep—even Sylvain has better manners. “You really are a beast.”

“Ah, I didn’t mean to.” A blush spreads across the boar’s face. “I thought perhaps—“ He shakes his head.

“You thought what?” Sweat drips down Felix’s forehead despite the chill in the air as night begins to fall.

“It’s nothing,” the boar says.

Felix glares at him. “Just spit it out.”

“I thought you might be in heat. That’s all.”

“In—What?” he screeches, unable to help himself. Felix, in heat? That’s impossible. He isn’t due for another—when exactly? His heats are thankfully rare, but irregular; he’s gone nearly a year without one before. It’s a common affliction among young omegas; their heats are often unpredictable without regular mating from the same alpha. The heats of unclaimed omegas are meant to attract an alpha; once properly claimed, the cycle of their heats adjusts for breeding.

“You asked and I answered,” the boar says.

“Well, you’re wrong. I’m not in heat.” But he might be at the start of one. That the boar has noticed before he did is humiliating.

“Of course,” the boar concedes, “but if you ever are in one…”

“What, are you offering to help?” His hand tightens around Aegis, a nervous energy running through him. Every second he spends in the boar’s presence fills him with the temptation to scent him. If he doesn’t disengage from the boar soon, that disgusting temptation will come to pass. His body is turning against him.

“Yes, to a degree. If you recall, my scent always calmed you as children.”

Felix takes a step back in shock. Scenting between children stops after an alpha’s first rut or an omega’s first heat; after that, only scenting between family members retains its innocence. As they’re neither children nor related, the suggestion is ludicrous.

“Have you completely lost your mind? I’m not a child anymore, and neither are you. Besides, if your scent is anything like the rest of you, it will hardly soothe me anymore.”

The boar’s princely mask cracks: he dares to look hurt. It’s a lie, Felix tells himself.

“I see. If you believe that to be the case, I will speak no more of it. Congratulations on receiving Aegis. It’s well deserved.”

He disappears further into the campsite, denying Felix the last word.

⟡⟡⟡

Keeping his oncoming heat a secret proves futile; by the time they reach Garreg Mach all of the Blue Lions are aware of his situation, giving him a wide berth. Felix’s heats make him more irritable than usual; he snaps at everyone that comes near him: alpha, beta, and omega alike. Even Ingrid tires of his attitude, abandoning his company to ride back with Sylvain.

The only person unfazed by his heat fueled frustration is the professor. They seem oblivious to the situation, though he suspects it’s just politeness on their part. It doesn’t take scenting to smell him when he’s in heat; just standing downwind of him is enough. Alphas are the best at it, which is likely why the boar could tell so early on. Though he's unsure of the professor’s status—they give off nothing concrete—at this point in Felix’s heat even betas can tell what he is. He hates it; he wishes he could hide his status as the professor does. There must be a technique to it—he’s noticed many of the higher ranking members of the Church are able to as well.

Too late for this heat at least. The moment they arrive at Garreg Mach he locks himself in his room and strips. He feels awful. He has no idea how heats are conducive to fucking: if anyone dares to touch him in this state he’s liable to ripping their arms out. Heats make him uncontrollably angry; his temper flares at the littlest of things, like the sound of the boar’s door opening as he leaves in the morning for class.

It wasn’t always like this, his heats. He remembers his first one especially vividly because it started a day after the boar’s first rut. Naturally, their fathers separated them but they were barely out of childhood and didn’t really understand why. They had always broken the rules before: staying up past bedtime, hiding from Gustave, stealing food from the kitchens. Felix thought their separation was another arbitrary grownup rule meant to be broken. He sneaked into Dimitri’s room each night, the two of them taking comfort in each other’s scents. He might have done it again during his next heat if they hadn’t been discovered by Felix’s father. His shock and horror made Felix break down in tears: he hadn’t known it was wrong. He just felt better around Dimitri—why was that so bad?

He hasn’t thought about that heat in a long time. He pushes it out of his mind, tries to sleep through the discomfort of slick soaked sheets. He dozes on and off through the morning until a knock at his door forces him awake. He assumes it’s supplies; food, water, and other such things are provided by the Church during a student’s heat. When he opens the door he finds those things and more: the boar is standing outside his room, fidgeting.

“Don’t you have class?” Felix snaps, thankful he bothered to put on linen pants before opening the door.

“I—I came to check up on you.”

“This isn’t my first heat.”

“I’m aware.” His face turns pink, no doubt remembering things Felix wants him to forget.

Felix itches to punch his fist through the wall.

“I already told you, I don’t want your help. I’m managing fine by myself.” His cunt chooses that moment to gush out another round of slick, soaking his pants and filling the air with his scent. A wave of desire rolls through him, almost knocking him flat; he holds onto the door frame for support.

“Felix?” The boar takes a step closer.

“Get away from me,” Felix cries, his voice cracking.

The boar gently lifts Felix’s head up by his chin.

Felix glares at him. “Why do you still have your gauntlet on, you stupid boar.”

“Oh.” The boar removes it and places his bare hand on Felix’s cheek.

Felix takes a deep breath and noses the boar’s palm; his scent has matured but it’s still him—he’s still the same boy Felix scented as a child.

Slick pours from Felix’s cunt; if they keep standing there, Felix will start dripping on the floor.

“Get inside,” Felix orders.

“The supplies,” the boar says weakly.

Felix holds back the urge to break something and helps the boar bring everything in. At the boar’s insistence, he eats and drinks, feeling irritated beyond measure by the boar’s nagging. It’s entirely unnecessary. His heat doesn’t render him helpless; when everyone is gone or asleep, he leaves his room to take care of the mundanities of living. He tells the boar as much, but it’s like the boar isn’t listening to him. He treats Felix like a child, hovering over him nervously, attentive to his every need.

“Stop it,” Felix finally snaps. “I can’t eat with you breathing over me. Can’t you at least make yourself useful and undress?”

“Undress?”

“Not everything,” Felix says in a rush. “The layers—I can’t smell you with all those damn layers.”

“Oh. Yes, that makes sense.”

He undresses bit by bit: his other gauntlet and glove, his sword, his cape, his boots, his uniform jacket. He keeps on his pants and undershirt, but the difference is night and day in regard to his scent. The high collar of his uniform was especially obtrusive with the way it covers the scent glands at his neck.

Felix’s heat spikes violently; his plate is forgotten as he pounces on the boar in appreciation.

“Boar,” he says, tucking his head into the boar’s neck, “I need you to—“ To what? He’s letting Felix scent him, that was the arrangement. What else is Felix expecting?

“Felix, you smell delightful.” The honesty in the boar’s voice makes Felix’s cunt throb.

“Bed, now.” Felix can barely stand; he’s never felt this pathetic during a heat before.

“How do you want to—?” The boar asks when they reach Felix’s bed.

“Just lay down,” Felix growls.

He pushes the boar flat on his back and lies next to him, their bodies angling together. Felix buries his nose into the crook of the boar’s neck and waits for his heat to subside.

What could be minutes or hours pass, with no relief in sight. If anything, Felix feels worse. His heat is the strongest it’s ever been. His cunt clenches around nothing, drenching his pants and sheets in slick; while his cock, usually barely affected by his heats, is hard and aching. He feels like he’s going to die.

“Felix, Felix—what’s wrong?”

“I feel so empty,” he whines. His voice sounds strange; too high and deep at the same time.

The boar growls and pushes Felix onto his back.

“Please,” Felix begs, though he doesn’t know what he’s begging for; all he knows is it’s something only the boar can give to him. He parts his legs thoughtlessly.

The boar growls again and tugs on Felix’s pants so hard they rip. Felix finds he doesn’t care. He holds his legs apart to show the boar his glistening folds.

However thin his pants were, they still acted as a barrier. Without them, the boar is hit with the full force of Felix’s scent. His eyes turn dark and predatory, the good prince mask fully cracked.

“Oh, Felix,” he says and sticks two thick fingers inside Felix's cunt.

Felix wails at the intrusion. All his burning, pent up energy comes together, makes him beg and whine for more. His cunt draws the boar’s fingers in like it’s trying to keep them there forever.

The boar draws back; Felix snarls.

“Hush.” The boar puts his mouth on Felix’s cunt and laps at his folds like a beast. Each lick and suck is relentless; outside of a heat, Felix wouldn’t be able to stand it. His thighs shake pathetically around the boar’s head; he’s never felt this way in his entire life. The boar eats him out like Felix’s slick is the best thing he’s ever tasted. There’s no technique to it; he simply _devours_ , taking and taking Felix’s slick for himself. Felix’s cunt tries to keep up, gushing out slick to replace what the boar has stolen but the boar takes it as a challenge, holding Felix’s hips up with one hand so he can have better access.

The boar jerks Felix’s cock as his tongue delves in deeper. It’s too much. Felix comes, hard, his cunt clenching around the boar’s tongue while his cock spills onto his hand.

Felix blinks; climaxing seems to have calmed his desperate need but he can tell it won’t last. This isn’t how his heats usually go. The only other time it’s been even close to this bad is the heat he had after the Western Rebellion. There has to be a connection—maybe some omegas experience a stronger heat after a life and death situation. It could be a thing—it’s not like he knows very much about these things thanks to the piss poor education his old man provided. Too much of his knowledge about heats has been shoddily cobbled together from dubious sources like Sylvain’s bragging and torrid romance novels. His old man didn’t even tell him heat toys exist.

Felix’s heat builds up again, worse than before. He thrashes on his bed, trying to find a position that will ease the ache inside of him.

“Felix? What’s happening?”

The boar’s scent wafts over him; instead of calming him, it sets him aflame.

“Please.” Felix knew the boar would make things worse. He knew it and invited him inside anyway. “I feel empty.”

The boar parts his legs and plunges two fingers inside his cunt.

“It’s not enough,” Felix whines.

The boar adds a third finger, spreading him wide. Any other heat and Felix might have felt satisfied.

“It’s. Not. Enough.”

“Felix, please. What would you have me do?”

As if he doesn’t know what Felix is asking. “I need to be knotted,” Felix says bluntly; a rush of slick soaks the sheets as he imagines it.

The boar makes a choked sound. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Why? Why won’t you help me?” He feels hysterical. If he doesn’t get knotted he’s going to die, he’s going to. He needs it, needs it so he can start having regular heats and be bred. The emptiness inside him applies to more than just his cunt— his womb begs to be filled. He’ll feel satisfied when he’s being fucked while his belly is round with their heirs.

“Felix, you’re not thinking straight,” the boar looks like he’s in pain. “You haven’t done anything to prevent a child, have you?”

Of course not. Why would he? A male omega’s fertility is a fickle thing; it’s unlikely the boar’s seed would take root unless Felix’s body recognizes him as it’s alpha. Which it doesn’t. _It doesn’t._

“Use your fist then,” he says.

“That’s—are you sure?”

“Do it or leave! I can’t take any more of this!” Tears form at the corners of Felix’s eyes. He hasn’t cried in front of the boar since they were children. He hates this, hates the boar, hates himself.

The boar wipes away his tears, shocking him. The gesture is too intimate, too sweet.

He really can’t take any more of this without breaking.

The boar’s fist slides into his hole, spearing him open as a knot would. It feels good—so good. Better than a heat toy. He rocks his hips into it, going slack-jawed when he sees the boar’s hand disappear inside of him.

Felix’s toes curl in pleasure as he comes in rolling waves; the boar cleverly squeezes Felix’s cock to draw out his orgasm. When it’s over, he feels satiated, his heat under control at last.

“Mmm.” He paws at the boar’s shirt, undoing it just enough to uncover his chest. He lays his head on it and breathes in his scent. He smells only of good things: late nights spent reading under the sheets, winter days spent sitting in front of the fireplace as snow hit the windows, going to bed after a hard day of training. All the happiness of Felix’s childhood surrounds him. He relaxes, forgetting for a moment all the things that came after.

⟡⟡⟡

The boar fights like his body is a weapon. Each strike of steel that breaches his defense, every arrow that sinks into his flesh, is the same as a hit to his lance. His threshold for pain has expanded to the point of posing danger. At the end of every battle his blue clock is soaked in blood, too much of it his own. It’s only a matter of time before he gets himself killed. Felix tells the professor, his father, even Gilbert—but none of them do anything of use. They don’t understand; they think what the boar needs is _patience_.

What worries Felix the most is what will happen when the little sanity and control the boar has left is lost in the haze of a rut. Not a single other soul seems to think of it; they act as if the boar is no longer flesh and blood, but a walking corpse. The boar has claimed as much, but they’re all fools for pretending his words are true. The boar is a beast, his mind incomprehensible, but he’s _alive_ , and the living have needs.

Felix should know. After the war starts and the boar is declared dead, Felix’s heats become nothing but a curse. Three times the boar helps him through a heat at the academy, always dressed, never going beyond what he did that first time. It isn’t perfect, but to ask for more is impossible. They don’t have a relationship—they don’t even have a _friendship_. The boar is immune to whatever appeal Felix has as an omega; he never gets off while helping Felix through his heats and when he goes into a rut, he disappears into the infirmary like a good little alpha instead of asking for Felix’s assistance.

This version of the boar will do no such thing. He treats the needs of his body as a nuisance, eating and drinking the bare minimum to survive. If he sleeps, it’s not by choice but the result of his exhaustion claiming victory. The boar isn’t about to treat his rut any differently. He’s going to ignore it, refuse to do what’s necessary to take care of it; a mistake that may prove fatal. Ignoring his body’s needs will distort his senses, lead to distraction on the battlefield, and make him harder to reason with. Ruts make the best alphas reckless and the boar barely has any restraint to begin with. In his delirium, he might finally make good on his promise to march to Enbarr by himself.

The thought of the boar dying from rut-fueled stupidity fills Felix with an indescribable rage. He won’t allow it. He’ll do anything within his power to keep the boar alive.

By the time the boar’s rut arrives, he’s made up his mind on what to do.

The start of a rut is always mild, getting worse the longer an alpha goes without knotting. For Dimitri, even the first day makes him intolerable to be around. His usual silent brooding in the cathedral turns hostile. He lashes out on anyone that dares to come near him—a poor, confused beta nun passing by; Gilbert, who foolishly tries to speak with him; a brave healer that offers a draught to temper his rut—until the monastery’s inhabitants come to the universal conclusion that avoiding the cathedral for the duration of the boar’s rut is the best strategy to employ. Let him fester alone—the worst he can do in the cathedral is break things.

As usual, no one wants to hear about Felix’s concerns. The boar needs to be watched over, lest he runs off and gets himself killed or simply forgets to eat and drink. In a lapse of judgment, Felix talks to his old man about his worries and gets an absolutely pointless lecture on the dangers of approaching an alpha in rut. As if Felix doesn’t know.

He enters the cathedral fully aware of his folly, but it’s the only avenue he has left. The alternative—the boar doing something stupidly rash and getting himself killed—is worse. There’s a high chance his plan won’t work anyway. The boar has never shown any sign of interest in him, not even during his heats when his body’s signals are at their most potent. The few times Felix, delirious and out of his mind, begged for his knot the boar denied it to him. Considering this time that’s the whole point, Felix has eliminated the usual reason for the boar’s denial. His seed will not be able to take root in Felix’s womb for the time being. If he refuses Felix’s offer, it will have to be for a reason other than his disgust at the thought of siring an heir with Felix.

The cathedral is devoid of life. The church officials and worshippers that traverse its corridors in the daytime are absent; combined with the rubble from the war’s start, the place feels abandoned. Felix walks down the nave, passing by cracked pews until he reaches the pile of rubble in front of the altar, the boar’s favorite spot for brooding.

He isn’t there. His absence makes Felix uneasy. He rarely moves from the spot, but it seems his rut has made him unpredictable, just as Felix feared. He tries to think of where the boar may have gone: the cathedral is large, filled with corners to hide. Outside and the Goddess tower needed to be considered as well, assuming the boar didn’t leave the monastery entirely to march to Enbarr.

He circles the rubble absently considering where to look when he smells it: the potent scent of an alpha in rut. He staggers, catching himself on a pillar to keep from falling.

Every instinct is screaming at him to run, but to or away from the scent is a question he refuses to answer. He takes slow, careful steps to the source of the scent: the hall housing the statues of the four great Saints.

“Boar,” he calls out, not wanting to startle him. “I know you’re there.”

A low warning growl emits from inside the statue hall. The sound is meant to ward off visitors, but it fills Felix with relief instead. The boar hasn’t run away and gotten himself killed after all.

He lets himself into the hall, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor. The boar is curled up beneath the statue of Saint Indech, his cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. There’s coherence in his eyes, which is good, but overall—

“You look like shit.”

“Leave.” One word, one syllable—these days for the boar it’s quite eloquent. His wits are intact then, as much as they can be considering he spends most his time talking to ghosts.

“You’re in no shape to be left alone.”

The boar makes a sound that might be considered laugher. “I see. You’ve come to take pleasure in my torment.”

“Pleasure? You’re more delusional than I thought. There’s no pleasure to be had seeing you lie in your own filth, hiding in dark corners.”

“Leave then. If you wish not to anger me further, get out of my sight.”

“No.” Felix walks until he’s standing right in front of the boar’s pitiful form. “If this is merely the start of your rut, I can’t allow you to go unaided.”

“And who exactly do you propose will do the aiding? Found some empty-headed village omega to sacrifice?”

“Of course not.” He grits his teeth. “It will be me.”

“You?” His dark laughter echoes in the hall. “You must be joking. Oh, oh no you aren’t. You’re entirely serious. Did the professor put you up to this? Your father perhaps?”

Felix’s thin patience snaps. “No one put me up to this! As if any of them—“ He stomps his foot; his crest flares and a crack appears on the stone floor. “Do not insult me with the suggestion I would do this for another."

The boar regards him with a cold, sharp eye. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? Very well.” He moves closer, out from the dark and into the light that shines through the ruined roof of the cathedral.

Felix gulps, the reality of his plan hitting him as the boar’s gauntlet slides up his thigh.

“Boar, what are you doing?”

“You are not yet ready to take me.” The boar unlaces Felix’s pants from where he kneels on the ground.

“You’re not touching me wearing gauntlets,” Felix hisses as the boar pulls down his pants, exposing him.

The boar pauses. “As you wish.”

While the boar is busy with removing his gauntlets, Felix takes off his jacket and gloves, not wanting them to get ruined.

The boar is right that he’s not ready. He’s not in heat, slick flowing freely from his cunt. It will be much harder to take the boar’s knot like this.

At least, that’s what he assumes, until the boar spreads his folds and remarks, “You’re wet.”

Felix attempts to deny it but the words die in his throat when the boar swipes a finger down his cunt and gathers his slick.

“Not as wet as usual, but it will do.”

Felix watches in muted horror as the boar licks his finger clean.

“Hurry up then,” Felix admonishes, trying to regain control of the situation. “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

“Hmph.”

The boar sets his dirty clock on the ground for Felix to lie on. The small gesture makes Felix feel a burst of something he chooses to interpret as anger. He debates on whether he wants to face the boar or not. He decides he can’t quite stomach looking him in the eye, and positions himself on his hands and knees.

Behind him, the boar’s armor clatters as it hits the ground. Without the thick layers of leather and armor covering him, the boar’s scent floods the air, invading Felix’s senses. Instinctively, he lowers his head further to the ground and arches his back to better present himself. He’s not in heat, but his cunt drips from a combination of the boar’s heady scent and the anticipation of being filled.

Five years and his body still responds to the boar as no other’s. Every heat without him has been unbearable, and the worst part is that boar has never properly taken him. Not like _this_.

The boar grips his hips, lifting him higher. His cock slides along his cunt until the tip catches the right angle and pushes in.

“Oh,” Felix says, his breath knocked out of him as the boar’s cock breaches him. He guessed it was large but he’s unprepared for the reality of it.

The boar stills. “What a tight little cunt,” he says.

Felix preens at the pathetic praise. Not being in heat means he only has himself to blame for his errant feelings. He bites his lip and feels thankful the boar can’t see his face.

Just when he thinks the boar has fully sheathed himself, he’s proven wrong with a jolt that stretches him beyond anything he’s ever experienced; somehow the boar’s cock manages to force its way in further.

A small whine escapes him.

The boar brushes his hair off his neck. The tender gesture serves as a distraction as the boar pushes the rest of his cock in with a final thrust. Felix can feel the base of his knot rubbing at his cunt and he fights down his rising panic as he realizes it will soon be inside him, swelling in size.

“Move,” Felix spits out.

“I will do as I please,” the boar says cruelly, and reaches for Felix’s cock.

He isn’t expecting the boar to touch him there; he jolts. The boar huffs in mocking laughter and after a few languid strokes Felix comes, spilling on the boar’s hand and cloak.

 _Fuck, fuck._ This isn’t supposed to happen—fuck! He feels boneless; if not for the boar holding his hips up he would collapse.

“Clean it,” the boar demands, shoving his hand at Felix’s face.

Felix is too weak to push him away and obediently licks his own spend off the boar’s fingers.

“Finally obedient?” the boar remarks haughtily.

Felix bites him.

The boar pulls his hand back and tsks. Felix’s pride is short-lived—dying when the boar begins to fuck him.

He treats Felix like a toy. With his monstrous strength he positions Felix as he wants to, moves him as he pleases. Felix is only there for his pleasure. The rough treatment does something strange to Felix, makes his mind feel like static. His cunt clenches around the boar’s cock, trying to be perfect for him. The boar’s size and strength are going to leave Felix sore for days.

“Is this your first time taking a knot?” the boar asks through a haze of pleasure.

Felix doesn’t reply.

“Answer me.” The boar grabs him by his hair and pulls his head back.

“What does it matter?” Felix hisses. “What will you do if I say there were others?”

The boar pulls his hair harder; pain blossoms along Felix’s scalp.

“Tell me their names. I will kill them.”

Felix laughs, his tears spilling from the pain. “There have been no others, you stupid beast. For five years I have suffered through my heats alone. I wish I never allowed you near me at the academy. You’ve ruined me.”

“Good,” the boar says cruelly. “You’re mine to ruin.”

Felix laughs at the truth of the boar’s words. He can’t deny it with how eagerly he spread his legs for the boar, how he couldn’t wait to be mounted. Was he really here for the boar’s rut, or for his own satisfaction?

Pleased that Felix doesn’t argue back, the boar lets go of his hair and gently combs through it, the gesture at odds with the rough way he pounds into Felix’s cunt.

His knot begins to push its way in, catching on Felix’s entrance as it stretches him further.

Felix whines, his cunt aching from it already. He can’t take it—he can’t. There’s no way. Every omega is lying.

“It won’t fit,” Felix says, hating the disappointment in his voice.

“Oh, Felix. It will. You were made for this. Made for me.”

The boar’s knot slides into his cunt with a final forceful thrust, locking into place. He comes, his hot seed pouring into Felix and filling him until he feels heavy from it. The fullness of it satisfies his instincts; he comes, clenching around the boar’s cock as if to squeeze out every last drop of his seed.

When the boar is done filling him, he sets Felix gently down and rolls them to lie on their sides. Not the ideal position for his seed to take Felix’s mind supplies, before he remembers the tea he’s been taking to prevent such a thing from happening. He’s not thinking straight. They’re at war. This isn’t the right—no, no it will never be the right time. He might be the boar’s toy to play with, but the boar isn’t his _anything_. They have an arrangement, not a relationship.

If not for the way the boar strokes his arm, Felix would think him asleep.

“How long does it… last usually.”

The boar breathes in the scent glands at Felix’s neck. “It will be some time. You may sleep if you wish.”

He doesn’t intend to, but the boar’s lazy caresses and the afternoon sun hitting his face proves too much to resist.

⟡⟡⟡

Felix’s father dies on Gronder Field at the hands of a young girl twisted by revenge. Felix isn’t there to see it. By the time he arrives, his father and the girl are both dead.

They bury his father at the monastery. The funeral is brief; a proper one will be held when the war ends, assuming there’s anyone left alive to hold it. The boar hovers at the edge of the cemetery and is the first to disappear when it’s over.

They haven’t spoken since Felix found the boar cradling his father’s body, blubbering like a child. Felix doesn’t shed a single tear for his father’s death; he feels numb. Everything he did to keep the boar from acting recklessly was for naught. The moment the Emperor was within reach he went mad with rage, chasing after her in spite of the risk. His father paid the price for his actions.

Another Fraldarius dying for a Blaiddyd. Felix is sick of it.

⟡⟡⟡

The boar— _Dimitri_ —breaks free from the shackles of his ghosts. The dark circles under his eyes lessen when he begins to sleep in a bed again. He takes meals in the dining hall and though his table manners are atrocious, Felix’s heart is traitorously pleased to see him eat. He attends war councils, takes up training again, awkwardly fishes with the professor, tends to the stables with Ingrid, clears rubble with Sylvain, gardens with Dedue—it feels like he spends time with the entire army, all of them except for Felix.

They talk once at the training grounds, and whenever they’re in a group. But Dimitri doesn’t seek out his company. Not avoiding him exactly—Felix would prefer it if he was. Instead, his inattention feels like indifference and it stings in a way Felix isn’t prepared for.

What was he expecting? For Dimitri to declare his hidden affections? For all that they’ve done together, sharing Felix’s heat and Dimitri’s rut, they’ve never kissed, never even so much as held hands. What affections does Dimitri have for him? During the academy, he helped Felix out of kindness, and as for his rut—Felix was no more than a convenient hole willing to be used.

The things Felix wants are impossible. They always have been.

They take back Faerghus, free the Alliance, capture Fort Merceus—all that’s left is conquering Enbarr. The end of the war draws near. Felix refuses to become complacent, but he feels for the first time a hope he can’t crush.

It’s of course exactly as things seem to be getting better that Felix’s heat decides to show up. Three weeks before they march to Enbarr—not the worst timing, but certainly not the best.

As usual, Dimitri notices.

“Felix, are you—that is—do you require assistance?” he fumbles out when Felix opens the door to his room.

Felix blinks; he can’t believe this is happening again. The familiarity of the scene is unsettling in its little differences: this time Felix is wearing a too large shirt that reaches his thighs, instead of midday it’s late at night, and Dimitri’s school uniform is replaced by the dark clothes he wears under his armor.

“You can stop with this—attempt to be kind. I’m tired of it.” Felix begins to shut the door.

Dimitri catches it, which means it becomes physically impossible for Felix to move.

“I’m not certain of what you mean. Can you—is that my shirt?”

Felix curses himself and blames his heat for the warmth that floods his face. “It is. What of it?”

“Why are you wearing it?”

Felix sputters—as if it isn’t obvious! Why else would an omega wear an alpha’s clothes during a heat? What point is there in saying it?

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Felix snaps. “I told you I’m tired of this. I wish to be left alone.”

Dimitri pushes the door wide open, sending Felix fumbling backward. Before he can trip and fall, Dimitri catches him by the waist; the door closes behind them in a loud thwack.

“Felix, please tell me why you’re wearing my shirt.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Dimitri’s closeness, his hand on his waist—Felix is going to be sick from the grief of it. “Why must you always meddle? I don’t want your _help_.”

Dimitri looks as if he hasn’t heard a single word Felix has said. His single eye is sparkling.

“Felix…” The hand not on Felix’s waist slips between his legs and rubs at his wet folds.

Felix closes his eyes and trembles. “No—wait. Stop this!”

Dimitri pulls back his hand immediately.

“I can’t don’t this anymore. I can’t.” Pathetically, his vision starts to waver as tears form in his eyes.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding somewhere,” Dimitri says before lowering his head to kiss him.

Felix’s heart leaps out of his chest.

“I’ve wanted to that,” Dimitri says as he kisses him again, “for a very long time.”

“How long,” Felix asks, chasing his lips.

“Since before I could understand why, back when you crawled into my bed during my first rut.”

“Oh,” Felix says, stunned.

"Does that surprise you?"

“Yes, obviously.”

“It wasn’t obvious to me. I thought you knew about my feelings for you. I did—I did say all of those things during my rut.”

“That was alpha posturing nonsense.”

Dimitri laughs quietly. “No, it wasn’t. Even the things I wish hadn’t said, I meant. That darkness is part of me, I understand if it’s too much for you to accept.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’ll have no other but you.”

Dimitri’s face takes on a shade of happiness that makes Felix’s stomach swoop and his cunt drip with slick. The later Dimitri must smell, as his eyes turn dark.

“Will you allow me to knot you? I understand if you say no. You probably haven’t done anything to prevent, um, conception.”

Felix feels like he might be dreaming. “You’re right but—I want it to take. I know it probably won’t. Not yet. But it’s not something I’m afraid of. So, really I should be asking you if you’ll still knot me knowing that.”

Dimitri’s eye is wide open in shock. “Felix… are you certain?”

Felix nods, embarrassed by the way his arousal heightens at just the thought of it.

“This is—I will make sure it takes, if that’s what you want,” he says, his expression filled with determination.

Felix smiles at him fondly. “Don’t be foolish. It’s unlikely. My body hasn’t—“ He’s about to say his body hasn’t accepted Dimitri as his alpha but his tongue falters as doubt fills his mind. Dimitri _did_ knot him before. There’s a chance it was enough to make him ready for breeding. “Actually, I’m not sure.”

“It will take,” Dimitri says stubbornly before lifting Felix off the ground to kiss him.

Felix would think that after all they’ve done, kissing would feel dull in comparison. It doesn’t. He wraps his legs around Dimitri, keeping them there when Dimitri sets him on his bed. His cunts rubs against Dimitri’s pants, soaking the harsh fabric. He feels safe underneath Dimitri’s bulk, protected as his instincts wish for during his heats.

“Please,” Felix says, “I’m tired of waiting.”

Dimitri pushes Felix’s legs apart and holds them in the air as he lines himself up.

“I’m going to breed you,” Dimitri says, the blunt head of his cock sliding into Felix’s cunt. “Fill you up so thoroughly you won’t have to doubt it.” He settles Felix’s legs over his shoulders.

“Please, I want it.”

Dimitri pushes his cock inside of Felix in one smooth motion, the ease of it almost shocking. The difference his heat makes—and maybe the difference of intention as well. It’s not a case of helping Felix through his heat, or helping Dimitri through his rut, but something much more honest.

This time he’s not afraid to look at Dimitri’s face. He wants to see everything of him, even the parts he tries to hide. He tugs at Dimitri’s eyepatch, asking a silent question: Dimitri nods and with careful fingers, Felix removes his eyepatch and sets it aside.

The darkness where Dimitri’s eye used to be pains him, but he doesn’t look away.

“ _Dimitri._ ” He calls Dimitri’s name over and over.

“I’m going to knot you,” Dimitri promises.

Even in heat, Dimitri’s knot stretches Felix’s cunt to its limits. He pops it in and out, rubbing Felix’s folds raw.

“I love you,” Dimitri says, the truth of it undeniable as he looks at Felix with such fondness it’s a wonder how he missed it before.

Felix comes, his cunt squeezing around Dimitri’s cock as he does. With a cry, Dimitri begins to spill inside him, his knot trapping his seed in to make sure Felix is properly bred.

Felix’s stomach swells from the fullness of Dimitri’s knotting. With his legs resting on Dimitri’s shoulders, not a bit of Dimitri’s seed spills. All of it is inside him, as it should be.

“How do you feel?” Dimitri asks.

“Good. Full. I think it will take.” He touches Dimitri’s face. “We must win this next battle. Do you understand?”

The thought of losing Dimitri has always been unbearable; their joining makes it impossibly worse. It frightens him, how much he loves the man before him. How much his life means to him. He can’t lose him; he won’t allow it.

“I’ll do everything in my power to win. For Faerghus, for the future, and for you, Felix.”

“See that you do,” Felix says fiercely. “Your life is mine. No one else can take it from me.”

Dimitri bends him in half to kiss him. “You say that, but I think I might die of happiness before then.”

“You’re not allowed,” Felix says against his lips. “Not until my heat is over.”

“Ah, the truth is revealed. You’re simply using me for my knot.“

Felix swats him playfully. “That’s right. Now be a good alpha and fuck me until I can’t walk straight.”

“Yes, yes. I live to humbly serve my beloved omega.”

⟡⟡⟡

The battle ends. A sense of euphoria spreads through the Kingdom’s troops. Felix searches for Dimitri and finds him grim-faced and holding a dagger.

“Dimitri.”

At the sound of Felix’s voice, Dimitri looks up and smiles.

Felix thinks of the future ahead of them and smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a blast writing this 😎 my favorite part about ABO is making it work for the world it's set in :)


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